


Slow Boy and Art Boy

by squick



Category: Original Work
Genre: High School, M/M, Original work - Freeform, POV First Person, Theatre, art boy sins, fun fact: this was the first thing i wrote in 2016, gay kids being... kids who are gay, i dont really have any further plans for it but who knows? maybe one day i will, this is technically a series but its never gonna be completed fyi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squick/pseuds/squick
Summary: I looked over one day and immediately thought:“Oh no, I’m in love.”





	1. Oh No (SB)

**Author's Note:**

> this is all a year old, but it's still cute. you never know, sometimes i suddenly feel like writing more of old things.

I looked over one day and immediately thought:

“ _Oh no, I’m in love._ ”

And there he was, two seats to my right, taking notes every so often but mostly doodling, then checking his phone. He looked pretty.

“ _Oh no._ ” I thought, “ _I’m in love._ ”

He glanced up at me – I was staring too hard – and I jolted. I locked eyes with him, then turned slowly back to the board at the front of the room.

“ _Oh no_.” I thought.

“ _I’m definitely in love_.”

-

I have always been slow. My parents said so. I took a long time to learn to speak, a long time to potty train; in class I usually take the longest to understand concepts and formulas, and I take the longest of everyone in the cast to memorize my lines.

Even so, my parents never worried about me, because, they said, whenever I finally figured things out, I excelled. After I figured out how to talk, no one could shut me up; once I figured out the quadratic formula, I soared to the top of the class; when I finally nail my lines once, I never falter again.

I think this was working out in sort of the same way.

I am very slow. So, so slow – oh my God.

Looking back on it, I was definitely in love.

I think, maybe the first time was the first time we met? He was laying in the grass, and two girls were trying to get him to come to class. He had brought his own blanket so that he could lay down without worrying about itching, but he hadn’t brought his backpack. They were going back and forth, him saying that he wouldn’t go because he wasn’t prepared, them arguing that they would help him out.

He rolled over, took off his glasses and closed his eyes. No matter how they yelled at him, he didn’t move an inch. I laughed, then walked off as quickly as possible. He didn’t come to class that day.

What kind of guy comes to school to skip class?

Jeez, he was weird.

And then, after that I kept noticing him, I guess. I noticed that he compulsively checked his phone in class. He was always,  _always_  doodling. If it wasn’t in his notebook it was on a desk, if it wasn’t on a desk it was on his arms. His doodles ranged from hearts, to fire breathing dragons, to elaborate portraits of the classroom.

The first time we talked was when we had clean up duty together. He showed up fifteen minutes late yelling, “shit, I’m sorry, I totally forgot!” By then I was already finished cleaning things up. I told him it was fine, and he smiled kind of ashamed-like and told me he owed me.

The next time was when I was on my way to musical rehearsal. I had stopped at the café across the street to grab a snack before we were condemned to the theatre for God knows how long. I got my muffin and iced tea and was heading out the door when he stopped me.

This is also the first physical contact we ever made.

He swiped at my arm as I passed him in line. I turned to him slowly, confused, and met his worried eyes. He pushed up his glasses, glancing ahead down the line and then back to me.

“Hey, wait for me will you? I’m so sorry. I should’ve gotten here earlier.”

Rehearsal started in four minutes. I nodded and sat down, waiting for him to get through the line.

We arrived to rehearsal eight minutes late and were both yelled at by our director –  _him_  she expected this from, not me. I felt guilty, but my guilt disappeared when I saw him grinning. Any thoughts of guilt were replaced by my mind racing about his smile, what I looked like, whether I’d ever seen him smile before, whether my face was red, whether he  _saw_  how red my face definitely was –  _God_ ,

How did I not figure it out by then?

I did not figure it out when I signed up for the play after learning that he acted in plays and only did tech for the musicals.

I did not figure it out when we were randomly assigned for a partner project, and I walked home fuming when he wasn’t my partner.

I did not figure it out when I saw him staring at me unabashedly during class, or when he showed me his unnecessarily detailed portrait of me at my desk after class.

I figured it out, I guess, just then. My first conscious thought of it, and then he caught me staring at him but he just smiled, and I was embarrassed, and I looked away and got this other. This thought that, damn, wasn’t it always me? Why couldn’t he be the one caught blushing every now and then?

Love, in love, in love, I was in love. I focused on the board and my paper and forced myself to not look to the right again. A carefully folded paper landed on my desk a few moments later.

The hearts on the front were all too familiar. I opened the note.

_What? What was that about?_

I crumpled the note up and shoved it to a corner of my desk. Another one landed by my hand. I opened it.

_Huh??? You jerk, answer me!!!_

He didn’t look like the type to use three punctuation marks at the end of his sentences. I knew nothing about him. I crushed the note and pushed it away with the other one. The third note bounced off my head.

_Hey asshole, if you’re going to ignore them at least quit reading them >:/_

I couldn’t believe he would draw an emoji. That was… very cute, very, very cute. I didn’t crumple this one, but still added it to the pile. The fourth note slid onto my desk and almost off the other side.

_Stop being boring!!! Stop being boring!!! Look at me!!!_

I looked at him.

He’d been glowering at me, boring holes into me. I thought I had been imagining it, but no, definitely, he was staring at me. When I met his eyes, he looked shocked, as though he hadn’t expected me to do it. He jolted, and turned away quickly.

…Funny. That was too funny. I laughed, then covered my mouth quickly as the entire class turned to look at me.

“Young man, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” My teacher asked pointedly.

I shook my head, eyes wide with fear of being reprimanded. The teacher narrowed his eyes at me, then turned back to the board. No more than a minute later, a fifth note appeared on my desk.

Across the front was written,  _Haha, that’s karma_.

Inside on the left was a crude doodle of – what I assumed was supposed to be – me, laughing with a wide mouth and a shark head. On the right was a relatively fantastic sketch of a poster design for the play that we were in.

I tore the halves apart, crumpled the shark head, and added it to the pile. The sketch I placed on the other side of the desk for safe keeping. I would show the director later.

This time when I looked up at him, he was staring at me expectantly. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, so I made a confused face. He looked alarmed, then shot me a thumbs up, a thumbs down right after. I sent him back a thumbs up. He smiled and heaved out a sigh of relief.

He cared about my opinion on something, maybe. Oh, that was cool. That was nice to know. That was so, so nice to realize.

I smiled to myself, glancing at the pile of crumpled notes he had sent me.

“ _Ah,_ ” I thought, “ _I’m definitely in love_.”


	2. The Risk He Took was Calculated, but Boy was He Bad at Math (AB)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slow Boy: pure, good, full of love
> 
> Art Boy: A BEACON OF SIN

I could not believe how bad I wanted to fuck him.

And I mean, it’s not because he was a guy or anything, it’s just that, I don’t want to fuck a lot of people. I have a list of less than ten people who I want to fuck, or have ever wanted to fuck, and one day he just… showed up on it. And that was weird because, like, this is a list that includes Beyoncé. But he was at the bottom, so I let it slide.

I actually became concerned about it the third time I jacked off thinking about him.

The first time, Beyoncé was also there, so I assumed it was more about her. The second time, Beyoncé was watching, and I figured maybe I was into voyeurism or something? I don’t know. But the third time, there was no Beyoncé, and I didn’t have any qualms with her absence until I was sitting there in bed, dick in hand, completely spent – more spent than Beyoncé had ever gotten me. Out of the blue, the guy that sits two seats to my left in class had surpassed Beyoncé on my want to fuck list.

No one ever, ever surpasses Beyoncé.

But all things considered, he was a much more practical goal. He wasn’t married with a child. He lived in the same town as me. We saw each other every day. Theoretically, I could fuck him whenever I wanted to and get over him, then back onto Beyoncé.

It seemed like a solid plan (even though we didn’t know anything about each other, and had never had a conversation).

However,

The real problem arose later, when I realized that maybe I didn’t just want to fuck him. I wanted something else from him too.

I had already been scheming on how to get with him for weeks – and then, at last, the Kairos. We had cleaning duty together after class. Somehow or other, I would make it happen.

I left the classroom and hid in the janitor’s closet, formulating a plan. Maybe I’d make polite conversation, ask him to come to my place later, sweet talk him, get some action once we were better acquainted. Maybe things would be easy and he’d be into it and I’d just wind up fucking him on the teacher’s desk. Not like that was the first time I had considered that particular fantasy.

But no, no, that was way too much for a guy that I hadn’t even spoken to yet. Maybe I could crack a few jokes, get him to lighten up, maybe even like me. Or, who knows, maybe I could ask him out for coffee right after and we could hang out for a little bit, maybe see each other again on Saturday –

I stopped daydreaming and walked back into the hall.

What was more concerning? That I was fifteen minutes late? Or that I had passed up a student-teacher roleplay fantasy to imagine going on a first date with him? I started running for the classroom, wondering exactly when I had stopped thinking with my dick.

When I opened the door, he was already packing his stuff to leave because he had already finished taking care of the room. I looked at him and said the first thing that came out of my mouth,

“Shit! I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”

And he smiled at me, bag slung over his shoulder, hair slightly disheveled. What a nice smile, I thought.

“It’s fine!” He said, never faltering.

Shit. What do I say back? He did all the work. Shit.

“I owe you one.”

What the fuck?

I closed the door and ran.

What the fuck???

Every time I think back on that, it gets worse and worse. In retrospect, I realize that I could have swept him off of his feet and my IOU could have been really great sex. But at that moment, I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about how I’d fucked up and he probably thought I was lazy (true) and unreliable (also pretty true) and I’d ruined any chance I had with him and he would never want to see me again.

Fast forward to the next week and I was daydreaming about him in class. Daydreaming so much, in fact, that I looked down at my notes (they weren’t notes at all, just lots of hearts and dragons), and there he was. Beautiful and bright and paying attention in class. Then he caught me staring at him. I did my best not to react, and then went back to drawing his face in detail. Maybe the details would’ve been more accurate if I was closer than two seats away from him. Like, really close, like, him sitting in my lap and me shoving my tongue down his throat –

Who was I kidding? He’s such a goody two shoes. I’ve never seen him check his cell phone in class. Whenever someone asks him for notes, he takes pictures and sends them out. He made a study guide for our midterm and shared it with everyone, He’s always on time for play rehearsal (except for that one time when I made him late), and always has a reusable water bottle. He probably saves stranded kittens in the rain. He probably doesn’t even jack off. Which means, he definitely isn’t jacking off to me. But at least that means he isn’t jacking off to anyone else either, so really, that isn’t so bad??

Look,

I’m trying to make the point that I don’t only want him for the sex, but I can’t just ignore that he has a really cute butt and I’ve thought about it a lot.

I don’t know what love is, but if it’s the kind of thing where the guy you draw in your sketchbooks nonstop, and the guy you dream about fucking and wake up with morning wood because of, and the guy you look at almost every day and wonder what’s the best way to ask him out on a date or what his lips feel like or whether he even thinks about you are all the same guy,

Then I’m fucked.


	3. He Don't Know Shit My Dude! Not a Fuck! (SB)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SB... Tries.

I’m not the type to make the first move, but I  _am_  the type to do what’s right. And it was wrong to keep hanging onto him like this.

Enough with the ‘accidental’ encounters, enough with being late to rehearsal with him, enough with the note passing, enough with seeing him on my way to class and clinging to him for conversation.

I wasn’t going to do things like this anymore.

I felt desperate. I felt wrong. Like I was kind of dating him, but definitely not, because he didn’t know. I felt… gross. I didn’t want to trick him anymore. I wanted him to actually like me and, more importantly, actually  _know_  me.

Why were we still strangers?

I had been kind of painfully in love with him for almost a month and I still barely knew him. What were his hobbies? His favourite TV shows? Favourite color, or food? Did he like coffee, or tea, or both? I wanted to know him, everything about him.

And God, I was sick of whining to myself about it, so I needed to do something about it.

When the class we had together ended, I practically ran to his desk (embarrassing), and then felt too awkward to say anything (also embarrassing). I thought I had built up enough resolve.

He laughed, but he looked confused. “Hey? What’s up?”

“Huh?” I said. God, what did I mean by  _that_? I had just… I just  _charged_  him. He was still in his seat.

“Why’d you run over here like that?” He asked, still grinning and picking up his bag.

“I gotta ask you something.” I said very quickly, and just hoped that he understood it. “About later, today, maybe.”

He nodded, moving to sit on his desk (he’s very cool). “Okay, shoot.”

Not yet. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t brave enough. I slammed my hand down on his shoulder and put my head down. He made a shocked sound. “I’m sorry. Give me a second?”

“Of course.”

He sat motionless until I was ready. He’s a good guy like that. When I looked back up he was smiling like he was concerned for my wellbeing.  _I like him_  I thought.  _I really, really like him_.

“We should hang out sometime.” I did my best to remain calm. “Or even today, if you’ve got time.”

“I can make time. I’ve got time.” He replied without hesitating.

I was stunned. “Are you sure? It’s really okay? I mean, I was just thinking, tech starts soon and so, we actually have time after school for once today. Before we’re stuck in the theatre until midnight or whatever, so,”

“Yes. It’s definitely fine.” He was laughing again. “We should get coffee or something?”

“I don’t like coffee.”

 _FUCK_. Sorry. Crap. I mean crap. Just, if my mind hadn’t been in overdrive I never, ever, _ever_  would have said that. It wasn’t a lie, though, it’s – it’s  _true_  I don’t like coffee. But I would’ve faked it. I would’ve suffered through it if it meant I got to grab some with him. Ugh! God. How could I have been so stupid? I’m so dumb, so dumb, so

But he just laughed even louder. “Then we could grab dinner? And on our way back I’ll get a coffee so I can stay awake, and you can get your  _tea_.”

I blinked at him and took my hand back.

He looked at me, grinning expectantly.

“Yeah!” I yelled, very stupidly. “That sounds good. I love food.”

He was struggling not to laugh again and I prayed it was because he thought I was funny, not because he thought I was dumb.

“Do you… like food?”

“I  _do_  need it to survive.”

I stared at him. “You’re so right.”

This time he chuckled under his breath. “Jesus, you’re bizarre.”

“What’s your favourite color?” I mean, I was already on a roll for embarrassing myself, I might as well get some information.

He slid off of the desk, standing right in front of me. I didn’t back away as he met my eyes, and I could feel him breathing.

“Red. You?”

“I like…” I stared into his eyes, maybe a little dazed. “Yellow.”

“That’s cool.”

I shook my head and my jaw went slack and I was talking without thinking again. “Actually it’s a warm color. I thought you of all people would know that.”

His eyes widened, and he cocked his head as though I had surprised him. Then he smiled a wide smile and ran a hand through my hair.

He’d never done that before. I shivered. He snickered.

“Damn, dude, you’re good.”


	4. SOMEONE Had to Make a Move SOMETIME (AB)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he may be a sinner but he's still useless

What the fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was supposed to ask him out first!!!!!

God damn, am I stupid? Or am I just?? I’m so???

On the one hand, I’m pissed that I didn’t ask him out first. On the other hand, I’m kind of into the idea of him taking charge. But Christ, I wished I had been the one to do it.

Mostly because, a couple of weeks passed, and neither of us had ever said the “D” word (contrary to what I may have led you to think, the D word is not  _dick_ , it is  _date_ ). So even though I was all up in arms about not asking him out first, I was still not even totally sure that he had  _asked me out_. His exact words were, “We should hang out sometime.”

Asking to hang out wasn’t all that outrageous, because all we had been doing until then was kind of seeing each other at random at school. We never really established that we were friends until that day. We got dinner. I am so, so fucking happy that I got dinner with him. I’m happy that I kind of know him now.

He doesn’t like coffee. His favourite colour is yellow. He loves pasta, but he also knows it’s bad for him and he hopes it never catches up to him. He doesn’t watch a lot of TV, but he loves books and watches game shows with his family. Jeopardy is his favourite. He gets throw up, stomach sick usually once a year. He loves history and really likes math, but is also really bad at math. He tries to draw but can only do cartoony doodles. So yeah, he’s exactly as adorable as I thought.

I looked him in the face and asked him if he ever jerks it. Because I am disgusting and really, really, really needed to know.

He looked stunned and slurped his fettucine. He stared at me, as if waiting for me to take it back. I didn’t take it back. This was a pressing matter.

But then he laughed and wiped his mouth. “I mean… yeah? Do you?”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yes. Of course. Like every other day.”

“Every other day?!”

“Is that weird?”

“No, no.” He was trying not to laugh any harder. His laughter was musical. “It’s just funny that you’re willing to talk about it, like, right now. You’re so cool.”

“I’m what?”

He looked at me with the most beautiful fucking eyes I had ever seen. “Very cool. I like it.”

 _I like it_ , not  _I like you_ , so things were still painfully unclear, and I needed to know.

So one day, we were sitting on a bench at school, just talking like normal, and I figured I needed to end this. It is wrong to hang out with someone casually when you’re thinking about fucking them every night, and giving into those fantasies every other night. By now the list was gone, Beyoncé was irrelevant, and he was the only thing ever on my mind. I was a mess. My behavior was just…. Nasty. Shameful. And I have no shame, so it must have been really,  _really_  bad.

“Hey, so,” I started awkwardly. “We’re friends, right?”

He looked at me, brows furrowed. It’s so cute when he looks concerned. “What? Yeah. Duh!”

I nodded, and I started to feel sad. I didn’t want to lose this. I wish that things could’ve stayed like this.

But I knew that I wanted more from him than just this. I wanted to touch him, and hold him, and I know I talk about it a lot so  _yes_  I wanted to fuck him, but that was mostly in theory. As in, when he wasn’t around I thought about fucking him a lot, but when I was looking him in the face or standing near him, all I really wanted was to, fucking, just hold his hand or something, you know?

I took a deep breath. “Look, I’m just gonna get this over with.”

“Okay.” He said, turning to look at me fully. He was attentive, his eyes were still so beautiful.

“Um, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“This?”

“Like, us.” My chest felt tight. “Us, hanging out and all.”

And fuck, he looked as though his world had crumbled. He looked like, like I had kicked his dog or something. Like I had rejected him from his dream school and eaten the last cupcake even though I told him I would save him one.

“What? Why?” He sounded small, sad. It was my fault, all my fault, all my  _fucking_  fault –

“No! Like. I mean, I’m saying this for a  _reason_  –“

“What reason?” He said, a little louder but still without any force.

“ _Because_ … because…”

“Please tell me, I’ll fix it. I’m sorry. Please.” He was begging. It had been sexy in theory, but was heartrending in practice.

I shook my head, leaning away from him, trying my best not to just say  _forget it, I’m sorry, we’re fine the way we are_. “No, no, no, it’s not anything you did. It’s one hundred percent, completely all on me, and  _I’m_ the one who’s sorry.”

He wouldn’t look me in the eye anymore. He balled his fists in his lap. “Don’t…” he trailed off.

I breathed out. This was painful. “Listen.”

“I’m listening.”

“I like you.”

“And I like you!”

A rapid fire response.

“ _No_.” I shifted away from him and closed my eyes. “I mean, I like you. I  _really_  like you. And I don’t think you like me the same way, or ever will, so it’s creepy that I keep hanging out with you like this when I’m thinking about you  _like that_  – it’s, it’s disgusting and  _I’m_  disgusting and I’m sorry for doing this to you, so it’s for the best if you just –“

I felt something press softly against my cheek. I opened my eyes. He was staring at me very intently, pouting slightly, and looking no less beautiful than before no matter how I willed myself to stop thinking it. I was terrified.

“I like you.” He pressed another kiss on my cheek. “I like you  _like that_.”

And then he leaned closer to me, grabbed me by the neck and forced our lips together. I was still terrified. But he was there, casting out any space that may have existed between us, and practically begging to be held. But, no. What the fuck was I so scared of? I had waited a month and a half for this. Why the fuck was I freezing up now? I mean, damn, all I had really expected was maybe holding his hand but here he fucking was, exactly as close as I’d always wanted him to be, and I was  _frozen_.

Was this okay? Was this even allowed? He still seemed too soft, too fucking delicate to touch. No way in hell would I – it wouldn’t be right to – shit, shit,  _shit_!

He stopped kissing me for a second to laugh, and barely pulled away.

“It’s fine.” He muttered.

Note to self: I have to ask him if he’s psychic.

But then, he was kissing me again, and  _he_  was the one shoving his tongue down my throat, and I figured by now, I might as well kiss him back.


	5. SB Has an Announcement to Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek

I don’t know. Sometimes it feels a little like I’m the only one. 

I know he said that he liked me first, but I still wonder if he doesn’t like me as much as I like him. When i think on it, every time we kiss I kiss him first; when we hold hands I always hold his first; I’m usually the one that asks him to hang out; we always go to my house instead of his -

I don’t know. 

It’s weird?


	6. AB Would Like to File a Complaint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> local useless man ruins everything for himself

FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN IT FEELS LIKE IT TAKES EVERY JOULE OF ENERGY IN MY BODY NOT TO JUST FUCKING JUMP HIS BONES????

Jesus Christ, I thought I would start doing better because we got together. But now it’s worse. It’s worse. Why is my boyfriend so cute and soft and innocent. I love him. Fuck!

The fantasies just kind of completely took off as soon as I had a real life reference for what his lips felt like. Like. The real life sensation of his lips on my lips can very easily be transposed into his lips on my -

Fuck!

See?

Shit!

I can’t do anything. I feel like everything I even think about doing is too much. I’m so fucked, I am so fucked, I am so so so


End file.
